The Pain Within
by Shinigami709
Summary: Seto is dealing with pain in his own way. However, when things go too far, who will be there to catch the falling angel? Rated as PG13 for now. Deals with Self Injury and rating my change because of future events.


The Pain Inside  
  
Warnings: This deals with Self Injury (SI). If the mention of blood triggers you, don't read. If you can't deal with the Self Injury now or whenever, don't read it until you're safe.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and I don't want to own the Self Injury but I have it, I've done it, I'll claim it.  
  
Notes: ~journal entries~  
  
o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o-- o--o--o--o--o—o  
  
It was early morning. He'd been working without any sleep. It was just a simple project, but some line of programming kept evading his careful eye. It was just the most recent thing to go wrong this week and it was the last straw. As he sat waiting on the next thing to go wrong and send him over the edge, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.  
  
It was a familiar exercise. After doing it almost since taking over the company, it was the same routine. He'd sit with his eyes closed trying to stop the inevitable. First, he'd feel hollow. Like there was nothing to him but a shell. Next, he'd become cold. No amount of heat ever warmed him up at this point. Then, his mind would kick in. It reminded him of all the reasons he was worthless. There was no one to turn to, nobody who even knew about his secret.  
  
After that, he'd find an instrument that fit his mood. Some days he used a thumbtack or nail. Those made fine precise lines that bled little. They were used to just vent over small things. If that didn't work, he'd use the metal end of a mechanical pencil. That left a wider trail and often drew more blood. If things were really bad, he'd find nail clippers. When used correctly, those produced shallow wide gaps that bled a lot at first, but were never deep enough to be lethal. Razors were a last resort. He'd only used those two or three times. There were other "weapons" used, however, no matter what was used, the marks were always hidden. After all...Seto Kaiba had no worries. He had his own company, he all but owned the city of Domino, and he recently began going steady with Jounouchi Katsuya. Life was perfect for him. If only they knew.  
  
Shutting down the computer after saving the program, Kaiba walked into his bathroom that adjoined his bedroom. Reaching into the medicine cabinet, he removed his nail clippers. Tonight all Seto Kaiba wanted to see was blood and to feel pain. He wasn't masochistic, it wasn't about the pain, it just provided him with a way to deal with his internal pain. He only hurt himself enough to bleed the evil out of him.  
  
Taking the clippers in his right hand, he selected a spot on his wrist. It hadn't been too badly scarred from before. As he pressed the cold metal to his thin flesh, he knew his release was soon to follow. Squeezing the ends together, Kaiba felt the sting of the metal cut through the skin. He repeated the actions twice more near the same area. By the time he felt better, the blood was running freely down the sides of his wrist, dropping to the floor beneath him. He watched it for a few minutes before bandaging himself up and cleaning the spilt blood from the floor. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he silently prayed that none of the maids would decide to snoop and notice the towel.  
  
Walking through the door to his bedroom, he picked out a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of tight black jeans. "Why do I continually do this? It's taking more and more to satisfy me. When's it going to be too much?" he thought to himself as he pulled on the clothes.  
  
It was now close to six in the morning. Figuring Mokuba wouldn't be up for another hour, Seto sat down at his desk and removed his journal. This was also part of the ritual. After hurting himself and cleaning everything up, he'd write. Mostly it was just an account of what he did, when he did it and with what, however, there were actual journal entries. This morning, he made such an entry.  
  
~I did it again this morning. Everything has been wrong this week. Plus I've had people jump down my throat for no apparent reason and am going to be forced to sit through a lecture because no rules were set up. I hate this. Why didn't I kill myself instead of Gozaburo? Things would have been so much easier that way. I know why I didn't. Mokuba. He'd never be able to deal with not having me around. I'm scared. I don't want him to be the one to find me if something should go wrong. But how do I explain what I do to someone his age. Hell, I don't think I could explain it to anyone MY age. It's getting worse. It's taking more and more to feel better. What's the limit? How much can you lose before you pass out? I don't know, I don't have any answers. I'm sorry.~  
  
He stopped there because he heard small footsteps outside his door followed by the soft knock. "Seto, I can't find my favorite blue shirt. The one you gave me." Mokuba called through the door.  
  
"I'll get it for you in a minute. Go get breakfast or something." Seto ordered as he put his journal away. Standing up was another task in itself. The instant he tried to stand, he was rewarded with a dizzy spell.  
  
"Shit!" he swore to himself. "I didn't think I went deep enough to lose that much blood." Grabbing the chair for support, he closed his eyes and waited for the light-headedness to pass. Much to his disappointment, it didn't pass. Dropping to his knees on the floor made a noise loud enough for Mokuba to hear.  
  
"Seto? You okay?" He asked, fearing that something bad had happened.  
  
Getting no response, Mokuba quickly picked the lock and threw the door open. As his mind processed seeing his older brother lying on the floor, he began to panic. Taking a second to get himself calmed down, Mokuba began to think somewhat clearly. He gently shook his fallen brother.  
  
"Seto, come on. Get up." He was rewarded with a long groan.  
  
"Mokuba..." Seto began weakly, not quite sure of what happened.  
  
Looking down into Seto's dim blue eyes, Mokuba asked, "Do I need to call for help?"  
  
Slowly shaking his head, Seto told his brother no. He was more afraid of what they'd do with him when they found all the scars and the fresh set of cuts on his wrist. He couldn't bear to be locked away from Mokuba. That along with the fact that it could possibly destroy Kaiba Corp. instantly. Having a CEO that was insane didn't look too good.  
  
"But, Seto, you don't look good." The young boy pleaded.  
  
He was starting to feel a bit better, but not wanting to trust his coordination, Seto sat on the floor for a few minutes more before replying, "I'm fine. Just not feeling too good this morning." He reached out to muss his younger brother's already unruly hair.  
  
It wasn't the first time that this had happened. The other times, Mokuba seemed to buy the "I'm not feeling good" response. It seemed like it wasn't going to hold water much longer.  
  
"Oh, by the way, Big Brother. Jou called last night after you locked yourself in here. He wants to do something with you tonight. Should I go to Yugi's?" Mokuba asked, knowing full well what Jou wanted to do with his brother.  
  
"Yes, see if he'll let you spend the night. I think it would be a good idea." Kaiba replied, finally getting up. "It might not be a good night to be around here."  
  
o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o  
  
Wow, where that one came out of...I don't want to go back there. This was written as an outlet for myself. I have been dealing with Self Injury for the last almost six years. I haven't cut in five of those years and I haven't scratched in a month. I've had some rough times of it lately and am trying not to hurt myself. I figured if I wrote this, I'd be taking my mind off it and at the same time writing a fic. 


End file.
